


Sorry About Your Plane

by starkintern



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Aunt May and Ned are only mentioned tho, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad & Spiderson, I’m terrible at tagging, Minor descriptions of injuries, Peter falls asleep a lot but who wouldn’t after a fight with a vulture guy, Tfw your kid crashes your plane and has the audacity to say that he's not hurt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony and Peter work through their issues, Tony is Doing His Best, Toomes is also only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkintern/pseuds/starkintern
Summary: He won. He wasn’t trapped under a broken building, still screaming for help that would never have come in time. 	He wasn’t lying dead on the beach with The Vulture standing above him, metal wings slick with his blood. He successfully protected Tony Stark’s supplies and prevented the hijack from getting any worse. He was okay.





	Sorry About Your Plane

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic about peter dealing with the aftermath of his fight with toomes cause i feel like that was kind of left up to interpretation in the movie. this is just my version of what happened and yeah, it does stray from canon a bit since tony sees peter before offering him a position on the team and they are MUCH closer here than they are depicted in the movie. don't blame me though, i just wanted to write more about irondad  
> i hope yall enjoy!

Peter felt like he had been run over by a bus a total of six times. 

Exhaustion made Peter feel weary yet throbbing pain kept him wide awake; the voices and bright beams from flashlights below the Cyclone and on the beach did not do him any favors in terms of his senses, which were seconds away from going into overdrive. The smell of smoke made Peter feel nauseated: it stuck to his clothes, his hair, his lungs. The air where he was sitting was much cleaner, of course, but that did not change the fact that Peter inhaled a lot of smoke from the plane crash and it practically caked his torn make-shift suit. 

His hands were shaking. He could feel them shake against his knees where they rested. Peter refrained from looking at them for the time being, knowing very well that they were bruised, bloodied, and most likely blistering from burns. Peter also knew that they were not shaking from pain but from fear. His heart was still rapidly pounding against his chest even now, minutes after his victory and capture of Toomes. 

However, hidden deep within that sense of fear was triumph. He had managed to capture a villain without any high-tech suit or help, only relying on his current abilities, wit, and courage. Peter didn’t need the suit to be Spider-Man and without the suit, he wasn’t anything less than who he had been with it. He was Peter Parker and Peter Parker was Spider-Man regardless of what he had. That was what he had to convince himself of, at least, when there was a building crushing him against the ground. 

Voices, this time much louder, broke his train of thought and Peter looked down at the scene on the beach. Flames were gradually beginning to be put out, getting rid of the bright orange glow that the beach held during Peter’s fight with Toomes. People in hardhats and suits checked the boxes carelessly tossed on the sand with flashlights, making sure that everything was in order and spared from damage. Flashing red and blue lights from nearby police cars caused Peter to grimace and turn his head away, closing his eyes and leaning back against the structure of the Cyclone. 

His senses were not the only part about him that was suffering at the moment, as his entire body unbearably ached. Overall, Peter felt like he had crashed a plane, been dragged through the sand, dropped from the sky, and knocked around like an old rag doll by a man with metal wings and bright green eyes. 

Still, he had won. He won. He was okay. 

When Peter opened his eyes again, he looked down at the beach to find that the fire was almost gone. There were barely any flashlights, as well, and it seemed as if the amount of people on the scene significantly decreased. How long had he been sitting up here? 

Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes with his hand, Peter shakily stood up, his other hand holding onto the structure that he had been leaning against. He knew that he had to get home soon, especially since Aunt May would be worried sick if he was late again. He couldn’t do that to her, especially after she helped him get ready for homecoming and trusted him to come back on time and in one piece. He still had no idea how to explain his visible injuries to her but Peter decided to figure that out once she asked. He could always claim that he tripped down the stairs, as plausible as that excuse sounded. 

“Karen, do I have enough web fluid to get home?” Peter hoarsely asked only to realize that no one was going to answer him. Even though he discovered Karen, his suit lady, a few days ago, he found himself missing her company. Softly sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a web shooter that, in the heat of the moment, he was unable to use. There wasn’t a lot of fluid left so Peter already knew that there were going to be points in time when he had to walk or take the bus if he had enough pocket money on him.

Pointing his web shooter at a nearby structure, Peter carefully balanced on the edge of the beam he was on, making a mental note to keep in the shadows so no one would make the connection between a teen in a onesie and Spider-Man. He doubted that anyone would but it was better safe than sorry. The web shot out of the homemade shooter, attaching itself to the structure that Peter aimed it to and with that, Peter left the burning beach behind him, not looking back. 

It was a miracle that Peter even managed to get home considering the circumstances he was under. Swinging with an injured shoulder was excruciatingly painful and he ended up running out of web fluid after a few swings and had to find a nearby bus stop, which wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. No one seemed to mind or care that he was beat-up and smelled like he had crawled out of a burning building. Peter simply handed a few coins to the bus driver, was given a ticket in return, and was bussed home with no questions or strange stares from anyone. 

“May? Are you home?” Peter quietly called as he gently closed the door to the apartment behind him. He was greeted with silence and Peter flicked the light on, peeking his head into the kitchen to check if Aunt May was busy concocting something. It was empty. Painfully trudging over to the fridge, Peter checked if she left him any notes and was greeted with the colorful sight of notes from the past week. “May?” Peter called again as he scoped the small apartment. 

Once he determined that his aunt wasn’t home from work yet, Peter decided to change out of his makeshift suit. It smelled like smoke and was torn in a multitude of areas. It also had blood from Peter’s lip and perhaps from other unidentified injuries staining the light blue sleeves. He painfully began to pull his hoodie over his head, biting into his cheek to keep from crying as his ribs, chest, shoulder, and arms protested simultaneously. He managed to get it off with only a few whimpers escaping from his mouth, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

When he managed to get the rest of his homemade suit off, Peter dug through his drawers for a shirt, settling on the NASA t-shirt that he wore in the hotel in Germany. He then chose simple dark blue sweatpants and, not even bothering to look at his injuries, began to crawl into bed. However, before he managed to pull the covers over his aching body, he heard his phone go off with a message. Suppressing a sigh of frustration – he couldn’t ignore it just in case it was important, after all – Peter reached over and took his phone from where it was resting on top of his homemade suit. 

The screen was cracked beyond belief, making his phone look as if Peter had webbed it up. His screen was incredibly bright nonetheless and Peter shielded his eyes with his arm to keep from overstimulating them. That was the last thing he needed. When Peter finally managed to blink away the light sensitivity and ignore his now pounding headache, he was met with a text message from Aunt May: 

_Peter! I hope that you’re having a good time at homecoming, I’m gonna be staying at work late so feel free to order something to eat if you want, I left money on the counter. Tell me all about homecoming tomorrow! I larb you <3_

It was sent an hour ago. Peter softly smiled at her message; he was lucky to have an aunt so wonderful and caring. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his hand as it got a few more new messages, all from them being from Ned: 

_peter are u ok?_

_let me know soon_

_did u do anything badass?_

Peter understood that he should text them both back, especially Ned, but he wasn’t feeling up to it anymore. Fatigue was heavy on his shoulders, seeping into his bones and forcing his entire body to continuously ache, and all Peter wanted to do was crawl into bed and curl up under his covers. His healing factor was working but very slowly and Peter wanted to wait there until he would be able to get up without agonizing pain. Therefore, Peter tossed his phone to the bottom of the bed before kicking the covers away from his body in order to give his hands more room to grasp at them. One hand did perfectly fine but the other kept shooting white flames of pain into his veins with every movement and Peter had to suppress a sob by the time he managed to pull the covers up to his chest. 

Drawing in a shaky breath, Peter uncomfortably lay down, staring up at the dark ceiling. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep in this position but turning to either of his sides would bring him into a whole new world of pain that he would rather not visit. However, as time slowly passed, Peter got tired of being exhausted yet not being able to fall asleep so in one swift movement, he turned to his side, facing the direction of the window next to the bed. 

Gritting his teeth to prevent a hiss of pain from escaping his mouth, Peter waited until everything subsided to a dull ache before letting out a small sigh. He shut his eyes tightly, ready to allow his exhaustion to take over. 

He won. 

He wasn’t trapped under a broken building, still screaming for help that would never have come in time. 

He wasn’t lying dead on the beach with The Vulture standing above him, metal wings slick with his blood. 

He successfully protected Tony Stark’s supplies and prevented the hijack from getting any worse. 

He was okay.

* * *

“Boss, your plane crashed.” 

Tony mopped a hand over his face as Happy rapidly explained the details of the scene over the phone, only half-listening to what the other man was saying. He had been hoping that the plane would be able to make it to its destination with no issues at all, at the very least being turbulence problems, but it seemed as if the world was against him tonight as always. When Happy was done talking about the boxes strewn all around the beach, the fire, and the state of the plane itself, Tony simply asked, “Who or what caused it to go down?” 

“I’m looking right at him,” Happy responded, “The Vulture guy.” 

That caught Tony’s attention. He suddenly straightened up, his fingers drumming against his knee. 

_Forget the flying vulture guy,_ please. 

_Why?_

_Why? Because I said so!_

“Is he brought down or do I need to show up and kick his ass into next week?” Tony asked, already prepared to call not only his regular suit into action but the rest of them, as well. He had a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake off. 

“No, he’s been brought down. He’s tied up right now.” 

“Who took him down?” 

The minute that Happy hesitated over the phone, Tony recognized that it had something to do with Peter and his heart dropped all the way to his stomach. _Stupid._ Of course the kid would continue being Spider-Man without the suit, he had been doing it before Tony met him and brought him to Germany. Taking away the suit only put him into much more danger. 

“Happy, where’s the kid?” Tony found himself immediately asking. He could already feel panic begin to grip his throat. No. No. If Peter managed to take The Vulture down without his suit, there was a good chance that he was badly hurt. If The Vulture didn’t hurt him, then the plane most certainly did and from what he could tell from Happy’s description of the scene, it wasn’t pretty. 

“We don’t know, I can’t see him –”

“ _Find him._ ” Tony could barely keep the edge out of his voice. 

“He’s alive, he left a note for you. He says sorry for your plane.” There was a faint crinkling sound over the phone as Happy pulled the note off where it rested. 

“I don’t want to know if he’s just alive, I want to know if he’s bleeding out somewhere.” 

There was a faint pause before Happy said, “I’m going to call you back as soon as I find him.” The line went dead and Tony nearly slammed his phone down on the table, trying to ignore the growing panic in his chest. What if it took hours? What if Peter was bleeding out in the sand somewhere? What if he got severely burned and all Happy managed to find were his -? 

He had to stop. He had to take a few steps back. Assuming the worst would only cause him to go into a panic attack and that was the last thing anyone needed right now, especially Tony himself. If Peter was able to write a note and leave the scene, then there was a likely chance that his injuries were not life-threatening. Tony had to look at this rationally. 

After what seemed to take days, Tony’s phone rang and he immediately picked up, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah, we found him. He’s okay. He’s just sitting on top of the Cyclone.” 

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s he doing here?” He thought aloud. Then, not giving Happy a proper chance to respond, Tony continued, “Bring him down and drive him here. The rest of the team can fix that mess without you.” 

“We’re not gonna bring the kid down, boss,” Happy spoke and before Tony was able to indignantly ask why not, he added, “He needs this. To be by himself for a few moments, I mean. We can keep an eye on him to make sure that he doesn’t lose consciousness and falls but I think he needs to be alone for a while.” 

The billionaire was silent. As much as he wanted to see Peter, it did make sense as to why he might want to be alone after a situation like this. After all, Tony had taken his suit away and failed to listen to Peter’s warnings about The Vulture, which ended up with the kid paying the price for his mistakes. The last person that Peter would want to see was Tony Stark. Tony reluctantly agreed that Happy could let the kid stay as long as he kept a close eye on him and was prepared for any possible outcome. 

Tony and Happy spent the next few minutes speaking about the contents of what was preserved from the plane crash and the motivations of The Vulture. If he had to be honest, Tony was only continuing the conversation because he wanted to get his mind off of what was potentially wrong with Peter. There was no way that he left the battle unscathed, after all, especially since he crashed with the plane and took down an adult by himself with no aid of his suit. His stomach churned at the mere thought of it. Peter had superpowers, yes, but that didn’t mean that he was invincible. 

Before they were able to continue their rather boring conversation, Happy’s voice interrupted him, “The kid left. We heard him saying something about having enough web fluid left to go home and we didn’t stop him. The kid is steadier than he was when we first found him so I think he can make it.” 

Tony chewed his bottom lip, rapidly tapping his pen against his desk. He was glad to hear that Peter’s healing factor was gradually working but at the same time he would much rather see Peter as soon as possible without the chance of the teen passing out mid-swing. Tony eventually hung up after asking Happy for a few favors and spent the rest of the time thinking about how he should go about this situation. He didn’t want to show up at Peter’s apartment when his aunt could be there, since it would only make the situation more stressful for all parties involved. However, he also didn’t want to leave Peter on his own, especially with the already existing tension between them and the fact that Peter was hurt, that was already a given. 

After waiting for about half an hour, Tony decided to call Peter himself. Pacing around his room, Tony waited as Peter’s phone rang. Tony was about to frustratingly end the call as a few moments passed with no response but thankfully, before he was able to do so, the ringing stopped. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sluggishly answered, his voice laced with sleep. Tony’s fingers toyed with the hem of his suit as he took note of how hoarse and strained Peter’s voice sounded. “Why are you calling me…? Is it about your plane?” 

Tony was so taken aback by Peter’s question that he was silent for a good minute or so, only prompted into action by the sound of Peter coughing in the background a few times. This kid was badly injured and he really thought that Tony was going to chew him out for wrecking the plane? “No, it’s not about the plane, I couldn’t care less about that right now. Are you at home? Is your aunt with you?” 

“I’m at home. Aunt May is working late, though, I don’t think she’ll be back here for a while. So I started sleeping…I think.” 

Tony breathed a sigh of relief at that. He wasn’t prepared to drive up to Peter’s apartment only to be met with a very angry woman. “Listen, I’ll be there in a few minutes to pick you up. Not Happy, just me. Sit tight and don’t…” His voice trailed off as he realized that he was heading straight into lecture territory, which he knew wasn’t fair to Peter considering the fact that the kid helped him big time. He didn’t want to thank him by pointing out his faults. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony finished with a simple, “Just be ready so we can leave as soon as I show up.” 

After the call, Tony broke a few traffic laws and he managed to get to Peter’s apartment in record time. He parked right in front of it and prepared to send the kid a quick message saying that he was here, although Peter was already out the door before he was able to hit send. It was only then that Tony realized that Peter must have sensed him approaching a few blocks away. 

“Front seat, kid.” Tony said as Peter opened the door to the back. In no time, Peter sat down on the front seat, not seeming to have the energy to mention anything about the seating change. He seemed nervous and kept his hands in his lap as he stared out the window, swallowing hard. Tony felt guilt claw at his chest as he realized that Peter thought that he was in trouble or in for another lecture and stared at the road ahead for a few seconds, weighing his options once again. 

“Thank you, Peter.” He finally said, not missing the shocked look that Peter threw him. “You really did prove me wrong. Not only that but you really did help me out of what would have been a really bad situation.” 

“But I crashed your plane.” 

“You did but you saved a lot of people and let me know that my planes need a lot more security if they can be easily hijacked like that. Look, I’m doing my best to compliment you.” Tony continued, turning to look Peter in the face. It was only then that he noted the thin stream of dried blood that ran from the teenager’s lip, the prominent bruises on his cheeks, the ash that matted his usually curly brown hair, the bruises around his left eye that reminded him of the injury that Peter went home with after Captain America went rogue. Anger bubbled in his chest but it was directed straight at himself and at Toomes. Toomes was lucky that Tony didn’t show up otherwise he would regret even looking in Peter’s direction. “Is anything broken?” 

“No, I don’t think –”

“How about we try the truth?” Tony asked, knowing well enough that the kid was hiding something. His hunched over position in the passenger seat even made him look pained. 

“My arm is broken, maybe. It’s swelling. But Mr. Stark, my healing –”

“Your healing factor might cause it to heal the wrong way.” Tony interrupted, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. He hoped that nothing else was broken and that his arm was the worst of his injuries but a small voice in the back of his head told him that it wasn’t, which was what caused Tony to suddenly shift his car into drive. “Okay, kid, just sit tight and I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan you there.” 

“Okay.” The statement came out more like a sigh and Tony tossed a quick glance at Peter, who had his cheek resting against his seatbelt and his eyes closed. As much as Tony wanted him to get some rest, he knew that if Peter fell asleep with the possibility of a concussion, it could be dangerous. Of course, Peter had mentioned falling asleep when Tony first called him but he still didn’t want to take any chances. 

“Stay awake for me, kiddo.” He said, using his free hand to gently nudge Peter’s shoulder. He mentally cursed himself when Peter visibly winced and reluctantly opened his eyes, trying to blink the sleep from them. “Sorry.” 

“’S’okay.” 

The rest of the car trip involved Tony waking Peter up whenever he dozed off, this time ruffling his hair rather than nudging his shoulder. He kept the music on the car off to prevent Peter from going into sensory overload, remembering how Peter once described having his powers being like constantly having his senses dialed to eleven. Peter seemed to be doing his best to keep awake without dozing off so Tony tried to get him to talk by asking him about his school day before the plane crash. 

Peter mentioned in a slurred, sleepy voice about how he spent most of it getting ready to go to homecoming with a girl named Liz, learning how to tie a tie with his aunt, finding out how Toomes was Liz’s father (typical Peter Parker luck, as Tony called it), going through a lot of detentions for his missed classes, and other details about the day that didn’t pertain to what happened on the beach. Tony did his best to respond quickly and keep Peter talking, although by the time he parked his car Peter was barely awake and certainly in no state to stand up by himself. 

Tony couldn’t remember if this was going to be his first time carrying a barely conscious teenager or not.

* * *

When Peter woke up again, it was by his own means and not to the sound of Tony Stark calling him on his phone. His mouth was dry, his body ached terribly, and his headache was still ruling with an iron fist. However, the amount of pain he was in significantly decreased and he was able to properly sit up without dealing with an orchestra of pain. 

“You sure took your time waking up.” A nearby voice caused Peter to suddenly look up and find Tony looking down on him, dressed in more casual clothes this time. The lights in the room they were in were dimmed and outside of the windows, Peter could only see darkness and the faint glow of streetlamps. Tony’s now visible arc reactor was the only bright thing in the room right now. 

“You let me fall asleep?” Peter asked, already beginning to stand up on unsteady legs. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. already scanned you, you don’t have a concussion.” Tony said, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern as he put a hand on Peter’s uninjured shoulder, lowering him back down to the couch in a sitting position. “Easy there. You may not have a concussion but you’re still banged up as hell.” 

“What?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Two broken ribs, a few broken fingers, a dislocated shoulder, a cut across your forehead,” Tony gently ran his thumb against the bandage on Peter’s forehead, “a broken arm, burns across your hands and wrists, and then a shit-ton of bruises that make you look like you’ve had a bad run-in with the Hulk. Your lip was also bleeding enough for me to be able to donate the blood to the bank a few blocks away. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel all that?” 

Peter simply looked down at his hands, his right one bandaged from his fingers to his elbow. His left arm was bruised but left alone, which confirmed Peter’s suspicions that only one arm was broken. His body still ached but to a much less extent, which was relieving considering the fact that Peter felt absolutely terrible the entire car trip and if it weren’t for Tony’s comforting presence, he doubted that it would have been as tolerable. 

“Did you…um, you know, do all this?” Peter asked, gesturing towards his arm. 

“No, I know how to handle injuries but I didn’t want to take my chances so a doctor from Med Bay did. I called him over after I brought you in here. He said that you should be feeling fine by the time the weekend is over considering your healing factor.” 

Peter didn’t remember walking inside, which meant that someone had carried him here. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and his hand scratched the back of his neck as a nervous habit. He hoped that it wasn’t Tony since Peter had a tendency to drool in his sleep and the last thing he wanted to do was gross the billionaire out. “Oh, um, that’s good.” He finally said in response to Tony’s statement about when he was expected to feel better. 

There was an awkward silence between them before Tony clapped his hands on his knees, “So, do you want some water?” 

“Oh yeah, sure.” 

Peter didn’t realize how thirsty he was until Tony brought him a glass of water and it was emptied within thirty seconds. The cool water soothed his throat and he leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Even though he just woke up, he still felt like he hadn’t slept in a few weeks. Not to mention the fact that his head was still hurting and closing his eyes against the faint lights of the room was a relief. 

He opened his eyes when Tony suddenly cleared his throat, standing a few feet away from Peter and looking incredibly awkward. “Sorry to interrupt but we need to talk about this, kid. About your suit, I mean. I’m sorry that I took it away. I should have known that it wasn’t going to stop you –” 

It was Peter’s turn to suddenly interrupt. “Mr. Stark, I don’t blame you.” 

Tony opened his mouth to continue speaking, closed it, and then opened it again. He had a puzzled expression on his face and tilted his head to one side, as if he were trying to process both what he was about to say and what Peter had said. “What do you mean?” He finally asked flatly. 

“I don’t blame you,” Peter repeated before continuing, “You were just trying to keep me and everyone else safe. I mean, the ferry incident was my fault and I put a lot of people in danger. I don’t think that I deserved the suit.” Peter had a lot of time to think about what happened on the Staten Island Ferry and he knew that Tony only took his suit away to make sure that he didn’t get himself into another dangerous situation like that. He also knew that Tony had a tendency to be blamed for a lot of things and he hoped that the fact that Peter didn’t blame him for anything that happened would bring him some solace. 

Instead, it seemed to bring an onslaught of confusion. “If you had the suit, you wouldn’t be as injured as you are right now.” Tony pointed out, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly. 

“If I had the suit, I wouldn’t have realized my mistakes and that me being Spider-Man extends past having a high-tech suit.” 

There was yet another moment of silence between the two of them and Peter anxiously picked at the bandages on his arm as he waited for Tony to respond. Eventually the silence became too much for Peter to be able to comfortably sit through so he found himself beginning to ramble, “I would have still gone after Toomes whether you took away my suit or not. Yeah, I would have been better equipped to take him on, but I’m not Spider-Man because of my suit. I’m Spider-Man because…that’s just who I am. Mr. Stark, it’s not your fault that I went after him and got hurt.” 

“You’re only fifteen,” Tony finally spoke, his voice quiet, “If you died…” 

Peter suddenly stood up despite his injuries and walked over to Tony, chin lifted so he was making direct eye contact. “I’m okay.” He assured, the statement small and simple yet very meaningful. When Tony failed to respond with anything more than a deep breath, Peter gently leaned against his chest, his arms coming up to Tony’s back. He gave the man ample time to move away if he wanted to, especially since he felt Tony’s breath hitch in his throat, but to his surprise Tony stayed where he was. Peter closed his eyes and focused on Tony’s breathing, only now aware of how quickly his heart was beating. “I’m okay.” 

The last thing that Peter expected was for a pair of arms to awkwardly embrace him back. Peter welcomed the warmth and proximity, feeling a faint smile tug at the edge of his lips. For a few brief moments, he forgot about how much pain his body was in and the terrifying fight with Toomes and the fact that an entire building had been dropped on him. Both Tony and Peter had their demons to struggle with but for now, everything seemed easier. 

“That’s not a hug, Mr. Stark, I was just putting my glass away.” Peter joked after a while. 

“You little shit.” Tony retorted yet his voice held no venom. 

Peter reluctantly moved away from the hug first, settling back down on the couch. Tony moved to sit next to Peter, who didn’t seem to mind and instead welcomed the closeness that they lost once they broke away from the hug. “I swear, I’m going to put you on every single protocol possible.” 

Peter laughed. “I’ll just have my ‘guy in the chair’ disable them.” 

“Try to and I’ll make sure that both you and your guy in the chair suffer through your hot aunt lecturing you.” 

They spent the next few minutes joking around and the atmosphere was light between them, which was a relief after their last interaction with each other before Peter went after Toomes. There were certain points in the conversation when it got serious, mainly prompted by Tony who declared that he would make new rules and protocols for the suit. Both Peter and Tony agreed that Peter couldn’t go on any dangerous mission like the plane or ferry incident without back-up and Tony promised that he wouldn’t brush off what Peter told him in terms of crimes. There were a few other things they vaguely brushed over but Tony began to notice that Peter was falling asleep again.

There was a point in time when Peter began to slowly lean against Tony’s side, not seeming to be doing it consciously. His responses were getting slower, too, and there were instances when Tony said something only to be greeted by silence or a delayed answer. At first, Tony considered reminding him to stay awake since they were bound to be leaving soon but he kept silent, feeling Peter fully slump against his side, his head resting on Tony’s shoulder. His breathing significantly slowed and it was clear that Peter was out cold once again. 

Tony relaxed his once tense shoulders, tilting his head back against the couch so he was staring at the ceiling. His hand gently brushed some flecks of ash from Peter’s messy hair and the movement became so rhythmic that Tony forgot he was still doing it. He closed his eyes, knowing well enough that he wouldn’t fall asleep but doing it anyway.

This kid was going to make his hair go gray faster than it should.

* * *

Tony didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep as well until he woke up with a start to a call from Happy. Trying not to wake up the sleeping teenager leaning against him, Tony picked up the call and put his phone against his ear, “Yes, Happy?” 

“His aunt is heading home. She won’t be there for at least forty minutes but you should get moving.” There was a brief pause on the other end before Happy asked in an exasperated tone of voice, “Was it really necessary to stalk her, boss?” 

“I didn’t ask you to stalk her, I’ve asked you to keep an eye on her car. I had to know when to bring the kid back.” At the mention of Peter, Tony looked down at him, not surprised to see him still sleeping…and drooling on his shirt. Trying his best to ignore the latter, Tony glanced at a nearby clock, seeing that it was almost midnight. He frowned as he realized that Peter’s aunt worked unusually long hours, although he could understand that she was a single guardian trying to raise a growing kid with a fast metabolism. Furthermore, Peter had once mentioned something about his aunt buying him a multitude of backpacks whenever he asked her to and taking them out for food every now and then, so Tony wasn’t worried about their money situation. May seemed to have it in the bag. 

“Boss?” Happy’s questioning voice reminded Tony that he was still in the middle of a conversation. 

“Peter will be there in twenty or thirty minutes. Thanks Hap.” With that, Tony hung up, placing his phone back on the nearby table. He was sure that there was a significant decrease in traffic at this hour so it wouldn’t be as much of a hassle getting to Peter’s apartment building as it had been earlier. He turned his attention towards Peter, prepared to wake him up for the trip back only to find himself hesitating. 

Peter looked like a mess, the bruises on his face slightly illuminated by the faint glow of the lights in the room. His hair was still matted down with random curls seeming to be sticking up in different directions. However, despite all of this, he looked perfectly calm while sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling with each breath. The contrast between what Peter was like when he was awake versus when he was sleeping was startling now that Tony took note of it. Peter had a tendency to be loud and easily excitable whenever he was awake, being able to talk anyone’s ear off about what interested him, but when he slept he was completely silent save for the occasional soft breathes. 

It was then that it hit Tony: this kid trusted him enough to keep him safe while he slept. It was not a spoken trust but more implied. Tony couldn’t help but wonder if he really deserved that kind of trust. 

“Hey, Spiderkid, it’s time to go.” Tony said, making sure his voice was at a normal level so Peter would be able to detect it even in sleep. When Peter only murmured something unintelligible and continued sleeping, Tony shifted in his spot, hoping that the movement would wake him up. “C’mon, your aunt will have both my and your head if she comes home and sees you gone.” 

Peter suddenly shot up, his brown eyes wide. “I’m awake, I’m awake! Is it a mission?” 

“Whoa, hold up, young buck.” Tony couldn’t help but smile in amusement. Peter turned to look at him, rubbing his eye with his less injured hand. “It’s not a mission but I need to get you home before your aunt freaks.” 

“Oh.” Peter’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, instantly visibly wincing as his body seemed to protest against the action. Tony knew that those injuries would be hell to deal with in the next two days but the doctor told him that none of them were life-threatening, or at least not to a kid with accelerated healing. The doctor also questioned if Peter was his kid, which Tony immediately denied. He couldn’t help but wonder how honest his denial was. 

The trip back to Peter’s apartment building was short but in that time span, Tony managed to convince Peter to stay away from Spider-Man duties until the weekend was over and he was properly healed. Part of him told him that Peter would ignore his orders and that part of him was most likely right but no matter what happened, Tony would be there in a heartbeat to help the reckless kid. He also briefly and vaguely mentioned something about giving his suit some upgrades and grinned as he listened to Peter begin to ramble about what they might be and how pumped he was about them. The remaining few minutes of the drive was filled with the sound of Peter’s voice, the quiet rock music playing from the radio, and Tony’s occasional sarcastic remarks. Flashing green and red streetlights illuminated their faces.

“What are you going to tell your aunt? You look like you’ve had a rough fight with a meat grinder and lost.” Tony asked as he parked in front of the apartment building.

“I was…gonna say that I fell down the stairs after homecoming. Took a rough tumble down, y’know?” Peter cringed at how pathetic and dumb his excuse was but it seemed like that was honestly all he managed to think of. 

Tony snorted. Considering how bad of a liar Peter was, that simple excuse wasn’t going to fly but he was sure that Peter would figure something out. Hopefully, at least. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, kid.” 

“Yeah, hopefully she won’t ask about anything else. Thanks, Dad.” Peter said as he opened the car door and swung his legs to get out of the car. 

Tony froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles turned white. Had he really heard Peter correctly? Did the kid just call him, out of all people, dad? “What?” 

Peter turned to him in confusion, his tired brown eyes seeming to be studying Tony’s expression. “I said thank you, Mr. Stark. Y’know, for helping me and not being mad about the plane. And for driving me home.” His small yet reassuring smile was enough to thaw Tony out and he realized that Peter didn’t recognize what he called him.

Before Tony could properly react, Peter was already out of the vehicle, closing the car door and making his way back to the apartment. The teen turned around and offered Tony a wave goodbye, which Tony returned as he watched Peter go inside. Then, deeming the kid safe inside, he pulled out into the road and left the building behind him. 

Tony tried thinking of other things on the drive home, such as the fact that he needed to upgrade the security of his planes or speak to Happy about what was going to happen to Toomes. However, his mind kept returning to the moment from a few minutes ago, where it as revealed that Peter actually thought of him as a father figure. Could Tony even be trusted with that kind of responsibility? What if he just messed Peter’s life up? What if he, by trying to avoid acting like his own father, ended up indirectly acting like him instead and causing Peter to suffer? 

This seemed like a responsibility that Tony was stuck with no matter what, as he couldn’t forcibly change Peter’s perception of him. Did he really mind, though? 

Maybe there was a _Parenting for Dummies_ book that he could pick up on the way back.

* * *

“Oh God, did I really just call him dad?” Peter groaned as he sank down against the door to his room, his hands holding his head. He had tried to play it off when Tony questioned him about it in the car but now that he mentally replayed the moment, he knew that he definitely messed up big time. “There’s no way, absolutely no way. He’s never gonna want to see me again. I definitely shouldn’t have said anything. He thinks I’m so weird now.” 

Naturally, Peter decided to text Ned about his dilemma. He grabbed his phone off the bed and returned to his seat with his back against the door, crossing his legs and hunching over the phone screen. 

underoos: _i accidentally called mr. stark dad_

guy in the chair: _HOLY SHIT_

guy in the chair: _what did he say back?_

underoos: _he asked me about it and i panicked and pretended like i had no idea what he was talking about and then i left_

guy in the chair: _does that mean that he’s your dad now?_

underoos: _no i think i weirded him out_

Peter leaned back against the door, not looking at the other message that Ned sent him. Even though Peter was incredibly embarrassed about the incident, if he were given the chance to do it all over again, there was a good part of him that knew he wouldn’t change a thing about what he said.

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up being way longer than i originally planned for it to be but i hope that it's good! i spent a few nights writing this out. i know that it diverges from canon a lot but i just wanted an excuse to write this scene out with a more established parental relationship between them. thank you for reading + comments & kudos are always appreciated !!


End file.
